


the tension and the terror

by dearygirl



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:11:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/756892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearygirl/pseuds/dearygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greendale Community College Prom Night 2013</p><p>Written for the Milady/Milord Prom Fic Challenge</p>
            </blockquote>





	the tension and the terror

**May 21, 2013**   


_all the tension and the terror  
thin limbed gorgeous green eyes smiling  
and i'm going straight to hell_   


It’s Tuesday night and only  _Greendale_  would hold a prom on a Tuesday night. Of course, Greedale is also a Community College throwing a  _prom_ , so. But it’s been four years and Jeff has become accustomed to the surreal, absurdist nature of the place – Prom on a Tuesday night, complete with cheap Mylar heart-shaped balloons and a kissing booth, is pretty much par for the course.

  
It’s only a matter of time though before something happens,  _something_  sends the night into a complete tailspin.  

  
Maybe the Dean’s awesome idea for animatronic decorations will catch on fire and trigger the sprinkler system to flood out the entire gym and send everyone screaming for the exits.  ( _Valentines Dance, 2011)._

  
Or frogs will escape from the biology lab, swarm the gym and cause everyone to run screaming for the exits and Chang to throw himself, crying, into the arms of a thoroughly unamused Starburns.  _(Prom, 2012)._

  
Or perhaps, Jeff will get drunk, punch Britta’s date in the face and then get arrested for peeing in the bushes outside the administration building.  _(Sadie Hawkins, 2012)_

  
Each successive memory makes Jeff cringe inwardly and he wonders once again why he even bothers showing up.   
  
  
If you know a meteor’s going to crash into your house, why sit around just to see how big the explosion’s going to be? It makes much more sense to get in the car and drive away as quickly and as far as possible.  
  
  
But Annie had threatened tears and violence if everyone didn’t show up for their last dance together and her words were directed mostly at him, so - here he is. Thirty-seven years old, at prom, watching people dance to the YMCA.

  
He finds his friends in the crowd and sees Shirley and Abed doing some kind of dance move that involves waving their arms wildly in the air. Britta and Troy are dancing nearby and she’s giggling and his hands are at her waist and Jeff can’t help but narrow his eyes at this because, well, it’s weird. It better not to ask questions though because if he knows Britta well enough by now, asking questions will only lead to having to  _answer_  questions and he’s not prepared for that.

  
As if on queue, he spots Annie leaving the dance floor, weaving her way through the throngs of dancing students, toward his table. Annie, who has apparently decided to show up wearing only half a dress.

  
He takes a sip of his drink, watching her over the rim of his cup and he can’t entirely help the way his eyes travel over her body - strapless, formfitting purple dress that stops just above the knees, silver heels, hair falling in soft waves over her shoulders, face flushed from dancing.

  
It’s entirely inappropriate – although Jeff has come to the conclusion that any outfit of hers that doesn’t involve a sweater securely tied around her shoulders, is in fact, inappropriate.

  
As she reaches his table he remembers what he said years back –  _We try not to sexualize her._ These would be wise words to remember, always.

 _  
Screw it._  

  
“Wow. That’s a dress.”

  
She blushes, presses the palms of her hands against her thighs, “Thanks. Why aren’t you out there dancing?”

  
He shrugs, “I’m waiting.”

  
“For what?”

  
“Locusts.”

  
Annie looks confused for a split second then rolls her eyes, “Fires, floods, frogs…”

  
“Exactly.”

  
“And which one of the plagues results in Pierce and I down at the local police station trying to bail you out of jail?”

  
“Hey, what did I say about that?”

  
“It never happened,” she says as she reaches for his drink.

  
“Never happened. I-” He stops short and smiles as she cringes and pulls the drink away from her mouth, her tongue darting out to trace along her lips. 

  
“What is that?”

  
He smiles, “Scotch.”

  
Her eyes widen but then she takes another tentative sip. “It takes like nail polish remover.”

  
Jeff is laughing as he tries to take the cup from her, “Then stop drinking it.”

  
“No, I like it.” She’s taking another sip, trying to keep her face straight but she can’t control the shiver the goes up her spine and causes little goose bumps to pop up all down her arms.

  
All this does is remind Jeff of exactly how much of her skin is visible and he takes the cup back and downs the rest in one gulp. She’s watching him with wide blue eyes when he looks down at her again. “You shouldn’t be drinking anyway.”

  
She tilts her head and sets her jaw. “I’m twenty-two.” 

  
“I’m aware of that.”

  
Her lips are curling into a smile and Jeff’s _got_  to stop staring at her lips, or the slope of her shoulders – maybe  _he’s_  the one that shouldn’t be drinking. “Stop that.”

  
“What?” The smile’s still there and it reaches her eyes. She blinks.

  
His eyebrows go up, “Stop.”

  
“You stop.” It’s at this point in the conversation when Jeff’s not even sure what they’re saying to each other – all he knows is that he needs to stop acting like a thirteen year old boy discovering flirting for the first time – the Jeff Winger guarantee has nothing to do with childish, back and forth nonsense . But then again, this is Annie, and when has that _ever_ made sense?

  
Her hand is on his wrist suddenly, “You should come dance.”

  
(Okay, they’ll walk out to the dance floor and suddenly a slow song will start and they’ll stare awkwardly at each other until she turns into him and his hands find her waist and they’ll slowly pull in closer to each other until he can’t stand it anymore and finally lean down to...) 

  
“I need to stop watching movies with Abed.” 

  
Annie glances up at him quizzically, “What?”

  
“Nothing. You go dance. I’m going to get another drink.” 

  
She watches him for a second before turning around and wandering back towards their friends. Troy takes her hand and spins her around once, making her laugh, but Jeff’s almost positive, even thought he’s  _not_ looking - he’s not - that her eyes remain fixed back on him the entire time.

  
  
 _and i try but i'm not convincing_  
 _your lips, they pout and twist_  
 _and i die trying just to keep myself from kissing you_  
 

  
The dance ends at eleven (and miracle of miracles, nothing resembling a Biblical plague occurs after all) but everyone’s heading over to Pierce’s house for an after party and it’s not until Jeff starts searching his pockets for his keys that he realizes how much he’s had to drink. He’s just sort of been chasing glassful of scotch after glassful of scotch and trying to ignore the fact that he’s maybe almost sad about all of this being over.

  
He’s not  _drunk_  drunk but everything’s starting to feel all slow and hazy.

  
“Looking for these?” Annie’s dangling his keys in front of him and he’d really like to know when she managed to get her hands into his pocket to steal them.  _That_  kind of thing he should notice, drunk or not. 

  
“What are you, some kind of pick pocket now? Did they have a class for that here?”

  
“You can’t drive.” 

  
He tries telling her he’s fine but somehow she still ends up leading him out to the parking lot and getting into the driver’s seat of his car. For a moment he wobbles, unsure, at the passenger side door. Nobody drives the Lexus. This is a very important rule that should not be broken. Even on prom night, even after five glasses of scotch, even if it’s  _her_.

 _  
Especially_  since it’s her because now Annie is in his car. And that has never proven to be a good combination of things.  

  
But he gets in anyway and buckles his seatbelt because what harm can a five minute car ride do? (It’s not really the car _ride_  that matters though. It’s the enclosed space and a  _parked_  car and – and now his mind is wandering toward dangerous places).

  
At least she knows enough by now not to mess with the radio or the thermostat. She just inches up the seat a bit, muttering that he’s too tall.

  
“I haven’t gotten any complaints yet.”

  
“You’re drunk.”

  
“N’ m’ not. Arrogant. Not drunk.”

  
Annie laughs and pulls onto the road and Jeff quickly sees that if anyone is going to drive his car, then Annie is probably the best candidate. She’s sort of neurotic about turn signals and remaining behind other cars at a safe distance and pausing for at least three “Mississippi’s” at each stop sign. 

  
Relaxing into this knowledge and the haze of his buzz, Jeff is just settling back into his seat, arm resting against the window, when she finally speaks.

  
“Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

  
He almost gives himself whiplash as he turns to look at her, “What?”

  
“Our first kiss, do you remember it?” 

  
Holy non sequitur Batman.

  
She’s asking this like she’s asking him what he thinks about the Rockies chances at the World Series this year, like she’s asking what the weather will be like tomorrow.

  
 “Most people do,” he finally answers slowly.

  
She blushes and continues watching the road carefully. He’s almost about to ask her where in the hell she’s going with this when she finally continues. 

  
“Do you remember the  _last_  time we kissed?”

  
At this he grins and raises an eyebrow.

_  
Ah._

  
(The end of midterms had been celebrated by a round or two or three of shots, resulting in the kind of frantic make out session that left Jeff with a weeklong bout of insomnia– her whispered gasps in his ear haunting any possibility of peaceful sleep. Also, requisite ensuing awkwardness was awkward. As per usual.)

  
“It’s hazy.”

  
Her eyes flicker up to the review mirror, to the backseat of the car. “You were really drunk.”

  
“I wasn’t  _that_  drunk. Can’t blame  _everything_  on drunkenness.”

  
She pulls into Pierce’s driveway and kills the engine, then sits there staring straight ahead with her hands on the steering wheel. Jeff allows himself to wonder if she’s looking to repeat previous backseat activities, in which case he will gladly offer himself as a human sacrifice. But then again, she’s doing that tense facial thing like she’s looking for a fight or a way to prove herself. Usually when things are going to lead to… _something more fun_ \- she’s soft and smiling and does this thing where she curls her chin into her shoulder and looks at him through fluttering eyelashes.

  
“You don’t have to be so careful with me you know. I’m not the same person I was four year ago.”

_  
Okay._

  
“I know?”

  
But she unbuckles her seatbelt and leans toward him, rests her hand on his thigh “Sometimes, when I’m…” Her eyes gaze at him all imploringly, like she wants him to finish the sentence for her, or at least understand where she’s going with all of this. He’s at a loss though ( _her hand is on his thigh_ ) and she seems to realize it because she takes a deep breath, looks past his shoulder and the next words come out in a breathless tumble, “Sometimes in class I can’t concentrate because all I can think about is kissing you.”

  
Jeff’s eyes widen, then narrow, then widen again as his mouth tries to form words. Coy, shy, flirty Annie he can handle (to a degree). Formidable, neurotic Annie he can control (again, to a degree). But this is some kind of nuclear combination of all that - sexy, formidable, slightly nervous, flirting Annie wearing a dress that leaves entirely too much skin visible and acting and talking like a grownup and watching his lips as he thinks of what to say.

  
Nothing comes to mind so he starts to lean in. 

  
But -  _why, why, why_  - she’s pulling away and reaching for the door handle.

  
“You don’t have to be so careful with me Jeff,” she repeats again and then the door’s shutting behind her and he’s left staring at blank space where she had been only moments before.

  
Well, he  _hadn’t_  had any intention of being careful with her. But, okay.

  
So. Maybe he hasn’t been spared some kind of cataclysmic Biblical event after all – there’s still a lot of night left in the night and he really, really wishes that he had slowed down on the alcohol consumption. This is something he can hardly even handle when he’s sober and right now all he can think about on continuous loop is the touch of her hand against his leg, that damn dress and the fact that they’ve been sitting in class together for four years – both thinking about the same thing.  
  
  
He has to wait two minutes before he can leave the car.

  
  
_you take in everything with a certainty i envy_   
_it's somehow all i need_   
_just keep me guessing please_

She’s leaning over his shoulder to peer at the cards in his hand. The scent of her shampoo wafts around him and suddenly he can’t remember what beats a full house, if  _anything_  beats a full house, what cards even make up a full house. 

  
“Jeff.”

  
Her hand is resting lightly on his shoulder so that the side of her pinky finger touches the bare skin above his collar.

  
“Jeff?”

  
He snaps out of it and looks around the table. Everyone is staring at him expectantly and Britta’s across from him looking slightly amused, or maybe slightly irritated. It’s hard to tell.

  
“Oh. Yeah. Umm. I fold.” He throws down his cards and Annie gives him a side-glance as she finally stands.

  
“Oh, I won!” Shirley claps her hands and starts gathering the chips from the center of the table. Everyone else groans. Jeff takes a swig of his beer and leans back in his chair, watches as Annie joins a group of people over by the fireplace.

  
It’s been like this all night. Little moments when she’s suddenly next to him in the kitchen, pressed close to his side, stealing sips of his beer, _inadvertently_ brushing her hand along his forearm where his dress shirt is rolled up.

  
The buzz from the scotch is still sort of lingering, so he can’t be exactly sure, but he’s got the sneaking suspicion there’s a reason and a purpose behind it all. Of course,  _everything_ Annie does has a purpose and a goal and a very carefully marked out plan – so maybe there isn’t any doubt.

  
She’s  _seducing_  him.

  
Little Annie Edison is trying to seduce him and he is about four seconds away from completely losing his shit.

  
It’s like she’s read some kind of book,  _30 Ways to Seduce a Thirty-Something Ex-Lawyer_  (no really, he has no doubt that she’s read this book and spent the last few weeks taking notes in the margins and practicing in front of a mirror) and now she’s putting it all into action in a very calculated and disconcerting kind of way.

  
Honestly though, he’s a little proud of her, and she’s still wearing that dress and she’s smiling and confident and seems really happy. It’s just a small, self-satisfying perk that a part of that seems directed at him.

  
But she’s slowly killing him. This slow burn, whatever it is, has been killing him for four years and apparently tonight’s the night that he’s actually going to die of Annie Edison related causes.

  
As he makes his way toward the kitchen for another beer she looks over at him and catches his eye. He winks.

  
She licks her lips.

_  
Jesus._

  
He’s leaning against the kitchen counter and pinching the bridge of his nose when Britta sidles up next to him, smirking.

  
“You know, you’ve got some kind of weird, emo, angsty thing going on tonight. It’s unbecoming.”

  
“I’m too old to be angsty.”

  
“Exactly.”

  
Jeff drops his hand and smiles, “Where’s Troy?”

  
Britta rolls her eyes, “Shut up. We’re talking about you and  _your_  problems right now.” 

  
“Oh, so the Troy thing  _is_  a problem?”

  
She points her finger up at him and shakes her head, “Don’t lawyer me.”

  
Now, this? This is easy. From the beginning it’s always been simple with Britta – the back and forth bickering and bantering and constantly throwing each other back into place. This is something he can get a handle on, this is something he can understand. 

  
Jeff gives her a crooked smile, “You think maybe we’ve spent too much time with all these people? Like,” He shakes his head back and forth, “I don’t know, away from here it’ll all just go away?”

  
“It’s possible. Are you asking if we’re only friends because of Greendale? Then yes, I know for a fact that we would not be friends if we hadn’t all ended up in the same Community College Spanish class together.”

  
Coming from anyone else it would sound conceited, but it’s Britta and she’s just stating truth. Jeff stares at a spot on the opposite wall, “Yeah. Me too.” 

  
Britta bumps her arm into his, ‘That doesn’t have to mean anything though. We ended up here for a reason, right?”

  
He looks down at her, “That’s sounds an awful lot like something Shirley would say.”

  
She makes a face, “I know, right? See?”

  
They smile at each other and Jeff is once again struck at how much simpler , easier (less nerve-wracking) it would have been if everything had somehow aligned differently and Britta has apparently gained the ability to read minds because she laughs suddenly. “We would have made each other miserable.”

  
“Yeah?” 

  
“God, so, so miserable.” She grabs two bottles of beer off the counter and starts to head back toward the living room.

  
“You think we’ll  _still_  be friends when this is all over?” 

  
Britta turns back around, “And now you sound like  _Annie_.”

  
At this, her eyebrows sort of pop up a little bit and Jeff opens his mouth to reply but she’s already halfway around the corner. “Don’t be such a buzzkill Jeff!” she calls back to him with a laugh.

  
He frowns, drops his head back with a smack to the cabinet behind him. What had these people done to him? Four years in and he’s hardly recognizable.

  
Somewhere from amidst the din of the party he hears Annie’s laugh. The familiar lilting sound makes his stomach sort of  _tumble_  in a not entirely unpleasant way.

  
Dammit.  
 _  
_  
 _a second passes by and i regret it_  
 _words just aren't right_  
 _sometimes i just can't explain_  
 _all the ways you devastate me_  
 _always on my mind_

He hasn’t seen her in about a half an hour so he moves away from the crowd downstairs and starts wandering the second floor. There’s a light coming from the room at the end of the hall and it’s there that he finds her, in what looks like a library that’s never been used. She’s leaning against the doorway to the balcony and he pauses for a moment to watch her, until it occurs to him that she probably knew he’d come up here, that she  _wanted_  him to come up here, that she's waiting for him.

  
His footsteps creak against the hardwood floor and she spins around at the sudden noise. And then she’s biting her lip and smoothing her palms over her dress as she starts to step toward him.

  
But he’s not in the mood for blushing innocent Annie. She’s been purposely messing with him all night so he kicks the door shut behind him and is across the room in three strides, propelling her towards the wall with enough force to make her gasp.

  
He braces his hands on either side of her head and holds himself close enough that she has to press herself entirely against the wall. Her heart is racing, he can tell from the little pulse point that is thumping at her throat. It takes all his willpower not to bend and press his lips there.

  
“Annie?” His voice is low and gravely, almost dangerous.

  
“Hi?” The word comes out as a breathless question and Jeff almost, almost wants to smile for the effect that he has on her.

  
“What are you doing?”

  
“What?” Her eyes are big and wide as if she’s trying to look innocent or coy but he’s not having any of it and just raises an eyebrow in response.

  
“Jeff.” She’s practically vibrating against him, eyes darting all about, dropping her hand to his chest, then to her shoulder, then tugging on her ear.

  
Jeff finally allows himself to smile. “You seem nervous.”

  
“What?” Her voice is a high squeak.

  
“What are you doing?” he asks, repeating his earlier question.

  
Annie takes a deep breath and finally settles for resting her hands against his chest.

  
“I asked you not to be so careful with me.”

  
“Does it  _look_  like I’m being careful with you?”

  
She shakes her head, then tugs lightly on his shirt and lifts herself up to kiss him. It’s awkward at first because he’s not bending down and she has to almost jump on her toes and clutch at his neck to keep from breaking contact. But then she’s making this noise in the back of her throat and Jeff’s hands are suddenly at her hips, pushing her back and up against the wall so that her feet barely skim the floor. She wraps her arms around him and he can feel her almost smile against his lips, like she’s won something.

  
And suddenly it’s like every other time, every scattered, unspoken moment from the last four years (Before the awkwardness sets in or people starting asking questions or Abed makes a suspicious movie reference or they remember who they  _used_  to be) it’s all just hands and lips and frantic touching and pushing aside of clothes.  

  
It’s happened enough that he knows she likes when he talks - it doesn’t matter what, a few words murmured against her skin are enough to make her whimper. He knows that when he presses his hips against her just like this –

  
And she must be paying attention too because she’s nipping at the spot under his ear in a way that makes him entirely thankful they are braced against the wall. 

  
He’s on the verge of completely losing it and moving them toward the couch but try as he might to ignore it, that little voice in the back of his head is saying,  _“This is Annie, this is Annie, this is Annie.”_  And no, she’s  _not_  a child, but he can’t be the one responsible for breaking her again. 

  
Also, he will murder, with his bare hands, the person that even tries.

  
He pulls back but she’s still bracing her hands on his biceps, trying to pull herself up, searching out his lips again.

  
“Jeff,” she says, frustration coloring her words and finally opens her eyes to look up at him. They’re heavy lidded and her lips are red  - she looks dazed and Jeff has to push himself away from the wall and take a few steps back so that he’s perched on the back of the sofa, out of touching distance. 

  
“Annie, what are you doing?”

  
In about the span of three seconds, her face floods with a varying wave of emotion -  confusion, anger and then finally resignation. Her shoulders drop, her head knocking back against the wall.

  
“I don’t want to regret anything about college.” 

  
Something drops in his stomach. “So, this is some kind of…?” He’s not really sure how to finish that question.

  
She’s biting the inside of her lip and staring down at the floor, “I don’t know,” she whispers. “I don’t want to leave here and not…”

  
It’s not entirely clear to Jeff what  _he_  even wants but he’s damn sure he doesn’t want to be just another college experience for Annie to mark off her checklist of things to do.

  
“Annie, we’re not going to… tonight.”

  
She nods and looks generally miserable and hell, if she starts crying Jeff will probably feel like enough of an asshole to throw himself off the balcony.

  
As she’s pushing herself away from the wall he’s moving up from the couch, back toward her and she’s suddenly falling into him, burying her head against his chest as he wraps his arms around her and holds her there in the middle of the room, the distant sounds of the party thumping below them.

  
It never fails to amaze him how ridiculously tiny she is - the way she fits against him, her head tucked under his chin.

  
“I don’t want to lose you,” she mumbles.

  
He has this sudden random memory from a couple years ago - they had all taken a weekend trip to Vail for some skiing and he had fallen almost immediately after arrival, twisted his ankle and ended up parked in front of the lodge fireplace with an icepack and a headache. Annie had come in after a few hours of playing on the slopes, flecks of snow in her hair, nose bright red from the cold. She had fussed over his injury, made him hot chocolate and then curled up on the other side of the couch with his foot in her lap to tell him about the igloo-like structure that Abed and Troy were constructing outside.

  
“You won’t.”

  
“You say that now.” 

  
He bends down, dropping his forehead to the crook her neck.

  
“Annie, you’ve got to stop being so concerned that everyone’s going to run away and leave you.”

  
She’s sighing, her hand coming up to rest at the back of his head, fingers scratching into his hair. She smells like strawberries and when he tells her so she murmurs something about shampoo. His lips brush against her bare shoulder.

  
“I really like this dress.”

  
“I know.”

  
He finally pulls away, looking her in the eye and brushing hair back from her forehead, “You know, we’ll both be in Denver next year.” 

  
She smiles and shrugs a little, “Yeah.”

  
“I don’t know anyone else in Denver, so. There’s no countdown clock on this thing. We can.” He lifts his shoulders, “I don’t know, see each other, see what happens.”

  
Certain parts of his body are wanting to rebel against this idea of more time and waiting and uncertainly but whatever this is – he’s not going to screw it up by trying to reach a deadline.

  
She seems to consider this and then nods quickly. Jeff feels something like relief.

  
“And I promise to stop being so careful with you.”

  
Annie’s face turns red with embarrassment but then her chin is dipping toward her shoulder and the eyelashes are fluttering. “It was kind of. Nice. Earlier. The whole kicking the door closed thing.”

  
Jeff presses his lips together to fight back a smile, but he nods and takes her hand to pull her into the hallway. “Nice? I’ll keep that in mind.”  _And he really, really will._

  
“Good.”

  
As they walk down stairs together, her arm looped through his, he feels something unwind inside of him. The truth is, he can’t really imagine what he’d be like without her– or any of them for that matter and if it all falls apart and the world ends tomorrow? Maybe it won’t really even matter anyway.

  
_darling, all of these awkward, jump-start, stalling conversations_   
_mean much more to me than anything_   
_it comes down to me and you_   
_and whether we're supposed to or not, we still will_   
_we're so much better off than them_


End file.
